Handcuffs
by BelletheWickedWitch
Summary: She's worked for years to get to this point. She is one of them, finally. Perfect. Oneshot.


I hate handcuffs. They irritate my skin. The blinding red and blue lights flash as the cop squeezes the right cuff just a little too tight.

"Um, OW!" I cry, irritated at the slightly overweight bald guy. If he didn't have easy access to a gun…

"Shut up," he commands in a nasally voice, squeezing the left cuff tighter for good measure, "wait here, missy, while we round up the others. _Don't. Move_." He leaves, going into the house to find the rest of my family. He wouldn't. They'd vanished by now, presumably into thin air. Only I had been dumb enough to get caught. I couldn't make that mistake again. I _wouldn't_ make that mistake again. Not with my dad watching. I want to impress him, so that he'll finally see me as a member of this family instead of just a young hanger-on not ready for the big leagues.

If I really want to impress him, I'd get out of these damn handcuffs. I'd done this a million times without him. Well, probably only closer to 50. I'm surprised the cops don't recognize me more often. I smirk to myself and roll my neck and throw my shoulders in such a way that my silver pendant necklace is behind me.

Reaching up into the hair it's now entangled in, I squeeze the pendant until it opens, letting a bobby pin fall into my hand. I fiddle with it behind my back for a little bit before I find the keyhole. I fit it into the hole and wriggle the top of the bobby pin until I hear a small click that I've been trained my entire life to hear. I wriggle my hands free of the cuffs, careful to wipe them with a baby wipe from my back pocket before I run off into the night.

I hear the overweight cop shouting, but I'm too well hidden now for him to actually see me. I pull a hair tie from my other back pocket and pull my hair up in a ponytail. I take off my jacket and tie it around my waist. I use my hands and liquid from a baby wipe to wipe my makeup down my face, smearing it to look like I was crying.

I made my way around the house, before walking over to the sidewalk to join the rest of the onlookers. I had my phone to my ear, and I was yelling at some boyfriend that I made up. There was a reason that I went to a performing arts high school. The cops scanned the crowd, looking for me. Though I can see their eyes staring directly at me, they pass me by, not realizing who I am.

A red car pulls over by the stop sign that I can see out of the corner of my eyes. I walk over and calmly get in the car. No one sees me. I look at the man driving.

"What are you doing here, Uncle Tony?" I ask, "You and Dad were supposed to be back at home."

"I couldn't leave my favorite niece in handcuffs, now, could I?" He replied, "Although, I see you've handled yourself pretty well."

"I've done this a million times before," I brag.

"I can tell," he tells me, "Maybe your dad will let you come on some more runs with us."

"Doubt it," I mutter, "Got myself caught before I'd even started."

"Well," Tony reasons, "You planted the thing, right?"

"Shoosh yeah I planted it," I assure him.

"Well, then we got," Uncle Tom checks his watch, "no time! Let's roll!"

I pull a pair of sunglasses out of the glove compartment and put them on.

"Let's go," I tell him.

I hear the explosion, and smile into the warmth of the flames leaping toward the street, heat flowing from them in waves.

Everything had gone according to plan.

Perfect.

I can't remember a time when I didn't know about my father's business. He was a gambler, more or less. He played the stock market, and gambled on stocks illegally. The rest of our family would go in and make sure that the stocks did what he wanted them to do. He became a bookie at one point, in a separate gambling ring, under a separate identity, doubling the work for the rest of the family. He made millions, and each member of the team got a percentage.

My parent's marriage had been one of convenience, but my mom got arrested and my dad left her to rot. I don't remember my mom, because that all happened when I was five or so. All I've ever known is life with my dad, my half brother, and my stepmom (also of convenience). All I've ever wanted to do was to impress my dad. I wanted to be worthy of his time and effort. I wanted to do what he did – hell, I wanted to be _better_.

In middle school, I decided that I really enjoyed performing. I loved making stuff up and pretending to be someone I wasn't. My father was hesitant on the idea of me attending a performing arts high school. I finally convinced him that it would be beneficial to our family if I knew ways to disguise ourselves and improv my way out of any situation.

From that day on, I became a part of my dad's business. He would tell Uncle Tony what he wanted to be done. Uncle Tony, Aunt Rayna, Uncle Martin, Ed, James, Genna, Aunt Karen, and Aunt Ollie all came up with the plots. Uncle Tony would discuss it with me (we never wrote anything down – ever). I would draw up a backup plan, a different character for every single person to help them blend with the crowd. Each character got something else to deal with while the crime was going on. Each person got a backstory that could provide a quick alibi before they could escape.

I always wanted to tag along with my Uncle and his team. My dad always told me that I was too little, too small, and too reliant on my boyfriend.

When I was in my freshman year, I began to go on small escapades without my father's permission. I developed two necklaces: my silver pendant with the bobby pin inside, and a pair of tiny scissors. They helped me escape every time I was caught. The scissors would cut through plastic ties, and the bobby pin would get me out of the handcuffs. I would bring home small, unnoticeable items – enough to prove what I was capable of without really messing with anything. Usually it was a pen or a postcard, or some dinky little tchotchke from the gift shop or check-out counter. My dad pretended not to notice as I handed them to him.

On my seventeenth birthday, having broken up with my boyfriend, and accumulated a lifetime's worth of pens, I opened a small box to find a family ring. Finally.

I was a part of their team, but only as a junior member, until I really proved myself. My first assignment was to plunge the stocks of a local franchise that many of my dad's friends invested in, Crowley Coupons. Everything went perfectly. My father was pleased. He allowed me to wear the ring as a full member of the team, although I couldn't go on jobs on school nights.

My brother was so jealous.

My friends didn't know, of course. They would never know. Not even my ex-boyfriend knew.

It was my secret.

It was my life.

It was dangerous.

It was fun.


End file.
